


Unfair

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Ficlet, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Cultural differences in the afterglow.
Relationships: Hoshi Sato/T'Pol
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Unfair

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The pressure builds, rising in her chest and her throat and pooling in her gut—Hoshi’s head arches back and digs so far into the pillow that she can’t see anything, couldn’t anyway, because T’Pol makes her see stars. Her whole body’s arced over the bed like a bridge, muscles tense to her extremities—she has both fists curled in the mattress, because T’Pol slows her fingers whenever Hoshi grabs her hair. And Hoshi can’t have it slow now. She loves when they make long, languid love for _hours_ , but also when it’s hard and fast and so fervent she could scream. She doesn’t actually know how thick the walls of T’Pol’s quarters are. If she screamed as loud as she wanted to in her own quarters, the whole deck would come running. 

T’Pol comes down to her, licking a wet line across her throat. It’s probably not for T’Pol’s own satisfaction, but because Hoshi’s neck is sensitive, and T’Pol has all her erogenous zones memorized. T’Pol toys with every one like the Vulcan lute she can occasionally be tempted to play. She plays Hoshi’s body like no one else ever has. Those delicate fingers reach so very deep and crook at just the right angle to make her lose it all. Hoshi closes her eyes and grits her teeth to keep from screeching, because it’s _so good_.

A final stroke is all it takes. T’Pol’s hand curls around her, pressing into her folds, two fingers knuckle-deep in her channel. The rest of her rises up into T’Pol’s trim figure, desperate for more _skin-on-skin_ , even though T’Pol’s fully clothed. She even looks hot in pajamas. Her pants ride low down her hips, tank top rolled high up her stomach, her heavy breasts falling down to press against Hoshi’s, and Hoshi can’t take that kind of pressure against her bare chest. Her climaxes roars through her like a hurricane, knocking every defense down. 

For a few glorious seconds, Hoshi’s nothing but a shivering mass of nerves, soaked in sweet pleasure. She can feel T’Pol’s mind flood her core, drenching her in _love_. T’Pol’s faint touch-telepathy always soars when they come together like this. It’s like T’Pol’s very being crawls under her skin, and she welcomes it like she welcomes T’Pol’s mouth on the shell of her round ear. It’s absolutely incredible.

And then it’s over, ebbing back, and reality seeps in. Hoshi collapses onto the mattress, wincing as the sheets glue to her sweat-slicked back. Her skin’s feverishly hot, made clammy and wetter in the warmth of T’Pol’s Vulcan quarters. T’Pol’s straddling her waist but up on hands and knees, so there’s no weight to contend with, but Hoshi can feel her own body like a sack of spent bricks. 

T’Pol bends to brush a chaste kiss over her lips, then climbs off and to the side. Hoshi’s too dizzy to follow the movement, but is vaguely aware of a damp cloth reappearing and sliding between her thighs. She lets T’Pol clean her up, knowing she’ll still need a long shower in the morning. She can’t do it now. T’Pol used to make her shower directly after sex, but that was before Hoshi convinced her to stop holding that superior strength back and things became so _fierce_. The tremours still wrack Hoshi’s body, rife with delicious memories. 

But when T’Pol settles down beside her, pulling the blanket up over them both, Hoshi turns and tries to kiss her, wanting to return the favour—contrarily to all evidence, she’s not a selfish girlfriend. T’Pol dodges her kiss with ease. Hoshi doesn’t try again, and T’Pol mutters predictably, “That is not necessary.”

Hoshi figured T’Pol would say that. She lets out a long breath, more panting than sighing. As much as she’d like to fall right asleep, she still mumbles, “I just feel bad not reciprocating.” She always does. She doesn’t think she’s all that worse than T’Pol with her fingers and tongue and everything else. She’s just doesn’t have as much practice. T’Pol claims she needs to ‘take care of her human partner,’ and that includes sexual needs, so Hoshi gets far more attention than she would’ve expected or deserves. 

Hoshi nuzzles her nose against T’Pol’s in a silent plea to be given her own chance to provide. She’s not surprised when T’Pol stubbornly counters, “I have explained the Vulcan mating cycle to you.” Yes, though it was like pulling teeth to get any answers, and it still feels shrouded in so much mystery. “My time hasn’t come yet. You will be the first to know when it does.”

“I also know you’re capable of enjoying sex outside of that.” Hoshi’s hand lifts, drifting to T’Pol’s shoulder. Squeezing lightly. T’Pol’s skin is the softest, smoothest surface Hoshi’s ever touched, though she thinks she’d still love her partner if that skin were lined with scales. The fact that T’Pol’s painfully gorgeous is just a pleasant bonus. Hoshi tries to trail down to T’Pol’s side, but the second she reaches T’Pol’s hip, T’Pol takes her wrist and pushes it away. 

“We will reach the colony tomorrow and will undoubtedly have an important, busy shift because of it. I will not be distracted or have you too tired then to function.” 

Hoshi’s nose wrinkles. She knows. She cares about her duty too. Of course she does. But she also cares about the beautiful woman whose bed she shares. T’Pol seems to read that in her eyes, because something melts in T’Pol’s stern expression, right before it swiftly closes off again. 

T’Pol shifts closer, though there’s already so little room between them, and it presses their thighs and chests together, one of T’Pol’s legs slotting between Hoshi’s. Hoshi’s breath catches. She should’ve put her own pajamas on again. Usually, T’Pol makes her. This time, T’Pol leans in so close that their lips almost touch, except T’Pol’s arm shoots out and grabs a handful of Hoshi’s hair, keeping her from closing the distance.

T’Pol parts her plush lips, and purrs low, intense, almost aggressive: “But when my _pon farr_ comes, I promise I will claim your body and soul so thoroughly, so fiercely, that you will still feel my touch for months after I’ve taken you.” There’s a short pause where Hoshi can barely breathe. Her eyes have blown wide, pupils dilated. T’Pol all but demands, “Will that suffice?”

Hoshi opens her mouth, but it takes two attempts to get anything out. “...Now I’m just turned on again.”

T’Pol’s tight frown is adorably disappointed in her. Hoshi can’t help it. T’Pol takes hold of her bare shoulder and pushes her, guiding her to turn—Hoshi obediently lets herself be rolled onto her side so that T’Pol can sidle up against her back. In her wildest dreams, she never would’ve thought it would come to this: spooning with the sub-commander. Now it’s how she falls asleep nearly every night. T’Pol cocoons around her and says with fond finality, “Good night, _t’hy’la._ ”

Hoshi traces T’Pol’s arm down to her stomach, holding her hand-over-hand. Closing her eyes, Hoshi agrees, “Good night.”


End file.
